


I can feel the distance as you breathe

by badxwolfxrising



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: And I would write 500 more, Angst, Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, F/M, I would write 500 words, Just to be the one who hurts your last remaining feeling heyooo, Missing Scene, Sorry Not Sorry, Whump, feelings were harmed in the process of writing this, mostly my own, the general consensus of all who have read this is that I am a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/badxwolfxrising
Summary: What use are emotions if you cannot save the woman you love?
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26
Collections: Doctor x Rose Forever Guess the Author 1





	I can feel the distance as you breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first round of Doctor x Rose Forever's Guess the Author event, prompt: "Oh God, oh fuck, that was not the right button.". Title is a line from the Tori Amos song China.

“Oh God, oh fuck, that was not the right button!” the Doctor roared in frustration, desperately punching the universal retroloop inhibitor switch like it was a giant Undo button that could somehow correct the massive and careless fuck up he’d just made. 

Weeks of work spent trying to figure out how to punch through the gap in realities without compromising the integrity of either universe and he’d managed to throw it all down the drain with one simple error, one little button pressed out of sync in an incredibly long and complex chain sequence that he’d spent the past few days endlessly simulation testing and attempting to memorize. The signal had started broadcasting too early, the energy converter hadn’t charged long enough to establish a physical link, only a visual and audible one. The chances that it would’ve worked at all were slim to begin with, the simulations had only been successful 42% of the time but now the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against him, and the chances that there would be enough power leftover to generate a physical link were now less than one in one hundred million. There was no way he was going to be able to get back to her. “C’mon c’mon c’mon!”

The audible link connected first, and the console room of the TARDIS was enveloped in the sound of waves before the beach and Rose shimmered into focus. For a minute he thought he could just about taste the ocean before he realized it was just a stray tear at the corner of his mouth. This was almost worse than if it hadn’t worked at all. To be able to see her and not touch her was a torture so exquisite it almost felt like it had been intentionally engineered. But of course that was ridiculous. He knew better than anyone how indifferent the universe was to the ineffable ecstasy and agony of an all consuming love.

Turning, Rose stepped hesitantly towards his projection and though she was as lovely as ever, her face betrayed a grief and exhaustion felt as keenly as his own. “Where are you?” she asked.

_“Inside the TARDIS. There’s one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close. And it takes a lot of power to send this projection, I’m in orbit around a supernova. I’m burning up a sun just to say goodbye,”_ he said ruefully. A sun destroyed, both his hearts broken, a hundred sleepless nights spent trying to figure out how to return to her, and now all that was left was mere minutes to distill every unsaid feeling he’d ever had for the extraordinary human who’d saved his life and captured both his hearts from the moment she’d set foot inside.

“Can I…?” she reached out, every ounce of longing he felt in the pit of his stomach reflected back at him through the tears pooling in her eyes.

Anguished, he shook his head and whispered, _“I’m still just an image. No touch.”_


End file.
